Porcupine Ridge YO. KYLE. WHAT DID YOU SAY BRO.

"I see," he hummed with a nod. His flesh was well suited to battle; travel-hardened and dense. But unlike she, the black wolf did not bare a single scar to speak of combat, for he had done little more than spar and had been fortunate to never be left with a reminder of past hunts. He considered her options, his gray eyes casually roaming over the contours of her figure. He thought briefly on the encounter with the trespasser, and decided at once which of her suggestions he was more inclined toward.

He did not give her a chance to ready herself — he rushed her, jaws open and the devil in his eyes as he sought to tackle the delta to the ground if he could catch her by enough surprise.